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| Blended - Saibal Ray |
This is the time when the sun tells to be free.
This is the time when the sparrow talks to me.
This is the time when the cool breeze touches my skin.
This is the time when the river bank plays with catkin.
The white soft autumn flowers shower on the earth.
The fragrance of eternity surrounds in mirth.
The wispy clouds call for a ride around the world.
The babbling water from the north whispers the herald.
The aroma of festival arrives with the new.
The mind becomes fidgety for the aura of blue.
The restless soul gets drenched in the transparent stream.
The celestial eyes bring the light in the dream.
The spark of love twinkles in the festive firmament.
The nostalgia flaps wings to cherish the cool scent.
The vagabond heart starts anew with a fresh zeal.
The soul searching in silence climbs the misty hill.
Emotions go up and down along the rugged soil.
This is the time to dump aside mundane turmoil.
The incense sticks burn to cover the dirt around.
The pundit sings hymns to hide the recent riot.
The festival brings fun and happiness in mind.
The religion plants poison in the brain of a child.
The food for mind is essential as it is for the stomach.
The religion pretends to show the light in the pitch-dark.
The result is visible from North Pole to South -
People killing people keeping religion in mouth.
All these daemons demand that they give peace of mind.
For a long time the mind has eaten from the unkind.
It’s time to replace the religion with the true light.
The preachers will bark for a while till the midnight.
The dawn will come with the hues and the sunshine.
Enjoy food for soul and stomach in the same line.
Create stories, break the myths, and dance with the god.
Tell them that we are ready to break the gun and sword.
It’s time to enjoy the festivals together with light.
It’s time to replace the food for human mind.
Let’s enjoy the stories of Brahma and Abraham.
Let’s find peace of mind beyond the village of Gotham.
If you hear a few still barking mythology as history
Turn the channel and be happy with a new story.
In this world no poem is possible without hatred.
Let’s hate the religion for instilling hatred.
In the end the mind says sorry to the Polestar.
The poetic aura in this world can’t avoid going far.
Let’s celebrate the holidays with the real food.
Let’s act for the inevitable with this blended mood.
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